


More Than Misbehavior

by TheSleeplessWriter



Series: An Agreement of Sorts [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Atonement - Freeform, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Kind John, M/M, Rabbits, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleeplessWriter/pseuds/TheSleeplessWriter
Summary: At first, John thought it was just Sherlock being himself and getting into trouble. He soon discovers there is more to this seemingly simple misbehavior than he thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiaoconnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiaoconnell/gifts).



Sherlock and John both suffered pounding headaches the day after Sherlock's birthday. The second Mrs Hudson returned to the flat, she playfully scolded them and made them tea. John tried to help her, but his dizzying nausea drove him directly back to the sofa. He certainly wished he could drink like he could when he was young, hard and fast with few consequences. Handing the two their tea, she placed her hands on her hips and frowned

"Will you two be drinking like that again? I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper, and definitely not your nanny!" She asked, only half serious. 

"No, Mrs Hudson." They both replied in dreary unison. Sherlock and John looked a mess, lounging on the sofa with wild uncombed hair and tired eyes. They looked more like college students who had just experienced their first party.

She smiled. "I'm off to the shops, then. Try not to get into unreasonable trouble." She advised in a motherly tone as she left the flat.

John propped his head up with his fist, only to have it fall back down again. Damn, was he tired. Still, something was niggling him in the back of his mind, and he was struggling to remember. Finally, Sherlock's words from last night had reappeared in his memory.

"Sherlock," John paused, surprised to hear his hoarse voice."You said something about rabbits last night." Sherlock's face visibly paled, which is a feat in itself considering how pale his normal complexion was. "Yes, and that you would return them on Monday. That's tomorrow."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "It's most likely a drunken fabrication your memory created to fill in the gaps of the events of yesterday." His voice rambled like a speeding train screeching to a sharp stop. John peered at Sherlock, thinking hard. 

"You're lying. What rabbits?" John pressed, feeling pushed to do so by Sherlock's slightly alarmed reaction. It was obvious he was hiding something. 

Sherlock's shoulders slumped in defeat as he carefully stood. "Follow me." John nodded and followed Sherlock to his bedroom. He took in a deep breath to ensure he didn't immediately start shouting. 

There were rabbits everywhere. There were at least four adult rabbits and twenty baby rabbits. They were all nearly pure white, save for very sparse and pale brown spots. "How the hell did you keep me from noticing?" John fought to keep his voice calm. The smell alone should have been noticeable. 

"John, I could hide a dead body in this flat and keep you from noticing." Sherlock said in a condescending tone. He didn't realize that was not the best thing to say at the moment. 

"That's why you've been staying in my bed!" John exclaimed with realization. The cheeky bugger had said he was having trouble sleeping, and asked to stay with John. He simply did not want to sleep amidst the rabbits. John swore he could feel his hangover induced headache pounding even harder. He took in another deep, calming breath. "Why?" 

"I had a long argument with a geneticist over the internet over the number of generations to breed a pure white rabbit from a spotted one. Coincidentally, I found a man in the street upset because he had delivered fourteen rabbit breeding pairs instead of twelve. He was in front of the pet store. I figured it was too good a chance, so I took their carriers while he wasn't-" 

"You stole them." John interrupted stonily, arms crossed. "Didn't we have a long discussion about stealing?" 

Sherlock flushed a bright pink, from the tops of his high cheekbones to the tips of his ears. He didn't like to bring up past punishments. "That-That's why I will return the original breeding pairs tomorrow. I already have enough to continue the experiment."

"The babies aren't yours though. Today, you will return them all back to the pet store. Understand?" John said, stepping out from the doorway. No matter how hungover he was, he still had to go to work, and his shift started soon.

Sherlock nodded compliantly. "Loud and clear." To be honest, John should probably have been suspicious. It wasn't like Sherlock to obey so easily and without complaint. Nevertheless, he was going to be late if he didn't hurry. 

\---------

Mrs Hudson was nearly scared to death when she heard the strange noises coming from 221C. The lot had been empty for years, as she was never able to rent it out.There were definite footsteps audible. As she neared the door, she surprised to find it unlocked and cracked open. She tightly gripped the small handgun inside her purse, pulling it out as she slowly swung the door open. She may look like a meek little landlady, but she knew to stay armed. She had lived long enough with Sherlock to know that.

"Sherlock Holmes! What the bloody hell are you doing?" Mrs Hudson shouted, angrily stuffing her gun back inside her purse. The rabbits had been relocated to the damp room, and feces already started to litter that room. Sherlock was moving the food and water dishes around. She quickly spotted the lock picking set beside him and held her hand out. 

"Give that up. Now." She demanded firmly. 

"No. I have need of it." Sherlock said stubbornly, picking up his tools and holding them close to his chest.

"I highly doubt that. Now." She repeated, still holding her hand out. The two locked eyes, both unwavering. 

"Mrs Hudson!" He frowned, his voice nearly becoming a whine. 

"I have several wooden spoons in my kitchen, would you like me to fetch them and make use of them?" She was only bluffing, but found it hilarious at the quick way his cheeks pinked. "Or would you like me to call John?" Mrs Hudson added, catching the way his eyebrows jumped. 

Sherlock groaned, relenting and dropping the tools inside her outstretched palm. "Well done. Now please get rid of these animals, or I will make sure that spoon makes acquaintance with your bum." She threatened teasingly. 

His cheeks darkened to a vibrant red. "Mrs Hudson!"


	2. Chapter 2

John came home from the clinic holding a bag of take-away. He had grabbed some lo mein from the local Chinese restaurant for dinner. As he walked up the stairs to 221B, he could have sworn he heard some noises from 221C. He would have gone to investigate, but remembered that Mrs Hudson said she had a rodent problem down there, so he ignored it. He found Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in his blue dressing gown. He was on his laptop, his face aglow with the light of the screen as he typed away at what John assumed to be another blog post on The Science of Deduction. When John neared, Sherlock quickly closed the chat screen and switched it to his blog.

"You returned the rabbits?" John asked as he pulled out the box of noodles and opened it. He looked around for plates and saw that they were all dirty and piled up in the sink. Of course. If only Mrs Hudson actually was their housekeeper, maybe the flat wouldn't always be in a constant state of chaos. 

"Of course." Sherlock said, eyes still glued to the screen. John smiled and leaned over, ruffling his messy hair. 

"Good lad." He said before ducking underneath the sink to look for some sponges. All he found were some raggedy ones, but they would have to do. 

Sherlock didn't reply, only nodded slowly, looking to the floor. He didn't like to hear praises come from John's lips when he knew they would soon to change to disappointed scoldings. The mess was always fun to make, but the waiting was absolutely torturous. 

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" Strangely enough, Sherlock didn't remember telling Mrs Hudson his full name.

Sherlock sighed. At least it was beginning and he no longer had to wait. He was going to get what he wanted, but could still feel a pit of worry in his stomach. John ran down the stairs first, believing it was an emergency. Sherlock trailed behind him, knowing full well it wasn't.

"C'mon, Sherlock." John said disappointedly when he saw the state of 221C. Fluffy little bunnies still roamed the room, only there was much more mess than earlier this morning. 

"You're cleaning this all up, young man!" Mrs Hudson said in a huff, crossing her arms. 

"I'll deal with him. We'll try to get them returned by tomorrow." John said tiredly, rubbing at his returning headache. He had already had a miserable day, dealing with a hangover while trying and failing to be pleasant to his patients. One woman had hmphed and stormed away, declaring she would never return to this office after he tactlessly pointed out that her heart problems could lessen if she "stopped going to the chippie everyday of the week".

Mrs Hudson frowned as she returned to her flat, quietly muttering something about a spoon and luck. John made sure the little animals had sufficient food and water before leaving the room.

"All right. Up the stairs, we need to talk." John ordered, pointing to the stairs.

Sherlock paused at the bottom of the stairs before he walked up. "Will it be the kind of talking that only involves our mouths?" 

"We'll see." John said, and in that moment, he felt like his mother. Always saying we'll see, maybe, I'll think about it. 

As he reentered the kitchen, John pulled out a chair and placed it in the center of the room. He seated himself down in it and crossed his arms as he met Sherlock's eyes. 

Sherlock stood, warily watching him as he leaned against the wall. 

"Here's what I don't get. You knew you'd get caught. You knew you'd get punished. So why do it? I know you're clever enough to sneak and put them somewhere more conspicuous. So why make it so obvious?" John asked, trying to figure out just why Sherlock would resort to such a blatant form of misbehavior. He usually was able to get away with his trouble for weeks without John figuring it all out.

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but changed his mind and looked to the floor. His face was maskless, and John found himself slowly reading Sherlock the way he would to others.

"Is this about something else?" John asked as he started to realize what this could all be about.

"Yes." Sherlock said, his eyes still firmly trained on the floor. 

"And you don't want to talk about it?" John ventured.

Sherlock looked up to meet John's eyes. "Yes."

While it at first had seemed to be a pretty stupid idea, John quickly saw how well planned the rabbit fiasco actually was. Sherlock had done something disobedient, but not dangerous or life-threatening. (John had at least taught him that much.) It was still something he could possibly earn a spanking for. And that seemed to be what Sherlock was looking for. 

"You can tell me, you know." John said, his voice quieter and more kind.

"No. But it was awful and I feel awful. I need you to make it better." Sherlock said, raking his teeth against his lip as he picked at his hangnails.

John thought on this for a bit. It would be odd to punish Sherlock for something he didn't even know about, but it seemed Sherlock was truly remorseful and wanted to pay for it.

"If that's what you need." 

Sherlock nodded and walked over to John, pulling off his dressing gown and pyjama pants before resting his body over John's lap. John rubbed at his shoulders, trying to calm Sherlock's nerves. The man seemed distraught. 

"Alright, I'm starting." John warned, lifting his hand into the air. 

"Go." Sherlock muttered, holding onto the stiff material of John's trousers. 

John smacked at the pale cheeks sharply, leaving a dusty pink handprint. Sherlock started to lose his tension when the first swats came down. His shoulders loosened, as well as his tight grip on John's trousers.

John felt awkward, not knowing what to say. He didn't know what the offense was, and Sherlock was already guilty. Right now, this was all about atonement. He continued spanking, Sherlock's arse turning a rosy pink color.

He was surprised to hear Sherlock start crying. He hadn't been going on that long, or that hard. He was only using his hand. He had only gotten tears from these spanking a few times, and that was always at the end. It started as quiet sniffles, and turned to muffled sobs. John stopped, instead caressing Sherlock's shoulders. 

"Are you okay?" John asked, his voice worried. He at first thought he had gone too far.

He heard no audible reply, only Sherlock nodding his head yes as he wiped at his face with his hand. John decided to leave the punishment at that. All Sherlock had needed was to release his pent up guilt. 

Sherlock lay over John's lap for a while, struggling to stop his tears from falling. John simply soothed him with quiet encouraging words as he rubbed his back and shoulders. He eventually stood, his pale complexion blotchy and his eyes red. John's expression softened and he embraced him. 

"You're okay, it's okay." John said comfortingly as he wiped away the final tear with his sleeve. "You can tell me of what you've done whenever you're ready."

Sherlock nodded, knowing it might be a good long while before he could. 

"Here, lets get some din- the lo mein!" John said exasperatedly, realizing he had completely forgotten about the take-away. He found it cold with flies buzzing around it, which was more than enough to encourage him from reheating it.

"Lets just have oatmeal. If we're lucky, Mrs Hudson will let us use some of her fancy honey."

Sherlock gave a soft smile as he followed John back down the stairs, in their quest of acquiring sweets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes this segment of An Agreement of Sorts! Thanks for reading, and I encourage you to leave constructive criticism down in the comments section. It's how I improve as a writer! Kudos and comments are also greatly appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo, another addition to this series! This story is for tiaoconnell, who urged me to follow down the throwaway line I had written in the previous segment. The next chapter may be while to upload, as I'm going on a trip this week. I'll get it done as quickly as possible!


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